Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(16)

My jaw clenches, my hands go to tight fists at my sides, and the heat rises in my face. “Watch it.”

He puts his hands up. “Hey, okay, nothing meant by that. I just mean you being professional about this and not being all over me could probably make this work better.” He smirks. “As long as we stay away from hotel bars and elevators I guess.”

“That was…” I purse my lips together. “Believe me, that will not be happening again.”

He grins.

I look down at the rest of my melting ice cream turning into a pink puddle in the little paper cup. “So you want to marry me-”

“Fake marry.”

“Okay, fake marry me, because I ‘seem classy’ to you? After meeting me once, and drunk, in a bar?”

“Yup.”

“You realize how insane that sounds, right?”

“Are you saying you’re not classy?”

I roll my eyes. “I meant what makes you think I’m classy.”

“Ever fucked a famous person just because they’re famous?”

I wrinkle my brow. “Are you famous?”

Austin grins wickedly at me. “Interested?”

I feel my cheeks go red as I quickly frown and shake my head. “Eww, no. And certainly not.”

“Well, there’s one.”

“One what?”

“Reason I think you’ve probably got some class.” His eyes drop to the front of my dress, and I can feel a warm tingle run up my back as he nods openly at my chest.

“Those real?”

My face burns hot as I quickly cross my arms over my breasts and scowl at him. “Of course they are.”

Austin chuckles and shrugs again. “Well, there’s two.”

I shake my head, turning to glare out over the Pacific.

You’re not actually considering this, are you?

Except, I am. And there’s no empty stomach and three drinks this time to blame my irrational behavior on. There’s no late-night bar, and handsome and mysterious strangers this time.

This time, I just might actually be crazy.

“This is insane.” I say it softly, almost to myself, as if saying it out loud is a way of trying to rationalize this thing.

“Life is insane, princess. This’ll help us both.”

He brings his hand up and runs it through his hair again. “Look, seriously. Nothing implied. Like I said, I don’t pay for that. Just play the part, be the good little wife and smile for the cameras, and you walk away with half a mil in six months. Plus spending money while you’re doing it.”

I frown. “What, like an allowance?”

“Sure.”

I can feel my brow furrowing as I turn away from Austin for a second to look out at the ocean. God, is this the only way? A rich guy’s trophy wife? Look pretty, smile for the public - there’s even an allowance. I groan at the idea of willingly becoming everything my mother always wanted me to become, no matter how hard I’ve tried otherwise.

But I need money. And on the upside, Austin does seem leagues above Vince, and this isn’t even a real marriage. It’s a job, that’s it. I take a deep breath, letting the air tease over my lips. It’s a means to an end, that’s all.

I turn back and level my eyes at Austin. “Okay, the hell with it.”

He raises a brow. “Is that an ‘I do?’”

“Don’t get cute.”

He winks and I resist the urge to blush. “Okay, so how do we do this?”

Austin shrugs. “It’s not like I’ve done this before, you know.” He grins. “I guess at some point I call my lawyers, but for now-” He holds a finger up as he jogs over to the ice cream stand window and comes back with a pen. He yanks a napkin out of the holder leans over the picnic table.

“Here.” He grins as he holds up the napkin with “I swear to be married for six months for $500k” scrawled across it, along with what I guess is his signature beneath it.

I make a face. “This isn’t real, you know.”

“Humor me.”

I pause, letting the last lingering doubts percolate in my head - letting the last little shreds of my sanity wonder what the actual hell I’m doing saying yes to this.

But it’s a ton of money. It’s money that assures I don’t have to try and beg off my mother and all the drama that comes with that. It’s not going back to Vince Capra money.

Besides, it’s not real.

I’m grabbing the napkin and the pen, and scrawling my name next to his as the words whisper through my head like a mantra.

It’s not real.

I look up at my new fake husband, forcing the heat from my face as the realization that the man I kissed like a crazy person in the elevator last night is now technically my employer.